Phryne Fisher's schooldays: 1 French lessons
by NancyMay
Summary: Set just after Phryne and her family move to England. Timescale is vague but sometime before 1914, Phryne is perhaps 12-14 years old, so her father would have inherited the title after the Boer War, to give Phryne chance to be educated in England before nursing during WW1. Decided to update this as an occasional series.
1. Chapter 1

How many more rooms were they going to be shown? Dozens of doors had been opened, showing classrooms, art rooms, a music room, sewing room, a 'deportment' room ... all so dull, dull, dull. Even the art room seemed devoid of colour with a few inexpertly created portraits adorning the walls. Her father's fingers dug into her shoulder as he propelled her behind her mother who was taking in all the formidable head mistress said about how she would get an education suitable for a young lady of the nobility.

That morning she had been told they were going to view a school, one that would knock the Collingwood edges off her, refine her accent, teach her to comport herself in English society. Her mother had put out an expensive outfit, a sailor suit, heavy and uncomfortable, her long black hair had been pulled back and secured with a white ribbon, and her new shoes pinched. Oh, what she would give for the old pinafore she had run around in back home.

"Of course," the headmistress looked down her nose, a Baron he may be but he had an Australian accent and was un-cultured, "we expect our young ladies to be well read, to be able to quote Shakespeare, the poets, so, this is our library."

Phryne looked up, books she loved, had always loved. When Janey had disappeared and her parents kept her close at home she had lost herself in any book she had got hold of. Adventure books written for boys, romances, tragic tales, anything to take her away from the loss of her sister and the dark, malodorous streets of Collingwood. When her father had come into the title of Baron and she was told they were moving to England, at first she had been excited. At least she would escape the grinding poverty, possibly the beatings her father meted out when he came home the worse for drink, but then, the stifling pomposity of English society threatened to drown her. Then, she was to be sent to school and as they walked round she felt the walls closing in on her.

The door opened, an almost golden light filtered out, dust speckles hung in the air - it was beautiful, magnificent - Phryne gasped, now this was more like it. She was allowed to enter and gaze upon the walls lined with shelves housing books on all subjects. Great classical literature, history, geography, art ... the list was endless. To the young girl this was paradise. Down the centre of the hall, it was too big to be just a 'room', were globes, clocks in display cases leading to a portrait of some serious looking eighteenth century gentleman. There were pillars of dark wood, twisted like barley sugar supporting a balcony where she could see yet more books. A series of domes in the ceiling let in light, this would be her sanctuary.

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The library aside The Honourable Phryne Fisher was not looking forward to school. "Still," she told herself, "if I have low expectations I might be pleasantly surprised."

She wasn't.

The dormitory was cold, the sheets too well starched and the blanket inadequate protection against a cold English winter. The other girls in the dorm looked down on her for her 'sloppy' vowels and the fact that, when pushed, she could swear like a wharfie, though some did admire her for this. Her bed was frequently sabotaged, especially when they found out she hated spiders. After a month or so of such tortures she decided she had to retaliate in spite of what her parents had told her, to rise above any of that kind of teasing. In order to hit the mark she had to get the ringleader - a tall blonde girl, who had a cohort around her of similar minds - not particularly impressive minds when it came to their studies. One thing Phryne did excel at was languages. She had quickly caught up in French, translating the texts given accurately if not neatly. Her tormentor struggled in this and had been forcing the cleverer girl to give her the translations they had to do. One night, after being cornered in the corridor she had passed a sheet of paper with the translation written on it, in pencil. She said it was her draft work and she wanted it back.

Lettice, for that was the tormentors name, snatched it and gleefully ran off to share the goods with her little group. Phryne hid her smile and headed to the library where she found the book she wanted and sat, cross-legged on the balcony continuing her education into the best French cursing she could. This, she found, was the reason there was an upper layer to the room - the 'forbidden' texts were stored there.

This was the best place to sit reading. The light through the skylights spread out round the domed ceilings, throwing shadows over the shelves and the globes and clocks. When she wasn't studying foreign swear words she would turn a globe, put her finger on it to stop it and wherever that finger landed she would go and find a book about that place, and sit in her favourite spot, out of the way of the bullies and spiders. If she was caught reading she wasn't in trouble, this was the reason she had caught up so well in her studies.

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The books were handed back, marked in red ink, praise given where it was due but ...

"Lettice 'artley-Jones!" Mademoiselle Clément boomed. For a small woman she had quite a voice, she reminded Phryne of Aunt Prudence, back home in Melbourne. She always missed the aitch sound at the beginning of words and rolled the 'arh' with venom. "Ici, maintenant!" (Here, now!) she waved the girl's book in the air.

Lettice looked round at her friends, unsure as to what she had done. She had copied Phryne's sheet and handed it back, no knowing Phryne had both erased the pencil and burned the paper in the kitchen stove.

"... et tes petits amis," M'elle never spoke in English in a lesson.

The rest of the girls sloped up, obviously they had done something very wrong, not just made a mistake, M'elle was red in the face with anger.

"C'est un blague, oui?" (this is a joke, yes), she held the book open in front of them, "vous voulez faire un fou hors de mademoiselle?" (you wish to make a fool out of miss?) She tapped the page with her perfectly manicured and painted fingernail.

Apparently this was beyond their comprehension. Lettice looked round at Phryne who was studiously reading the comments in her book, full of praise from M'elle, but understanding exactly what was being said. She wondered how big the spider would be that night.

M'elle Clément continued her tirade as Lettice and her friends hung their heads in shame. The one part of the verbal onslaught they did understand was "...rester derrière après la classe et re faire le travail!" (stay after class and redo the work!")

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"Phryne," a voice hissed, "what did you do?" Catherine Windlesham dragged her by the elbow into a corner, "whatever it was, was brilliant."

"Really?" Phryne gasped, "hey, how do you know it was me?" she pulled her arm away and glared.

"Honestly, she gets you to do all her French work, who else?"

Phryne's shoulders slumped, getting caught was her greatest fear.

"No, honestly, she deserves to be taken down a peg or two," Catherine insisted, "but what did they write?"

"Come to the library," Phryne looked round the corner, "we can talk there."

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Up, out of sight, Phryne showed Catherine the books she had found and told her what she had given Lettice to copy. Her eyes were like saucers as she listened to the most offensive description of the teacher, with some language she had never heard, in English, never mind in French.

"I'm going to get it, from her and the others, though," Phryne muttered, "spiders, cold custard in the bed ..."

"No you won't," Catherine smiled, "not this time."

"Who's going to stop her?"

"We are," she put her arm over her new friend's shoulder, "you, me, Lavinia, Charlotte, Enid ... we all hate her and have been on the receiving end of her charming ways since she arrived. Together, with you, we will be a force to be reckoned with, Phryne Fisher."

"Ok," Phryne sat back and looked at her, "if we do, stick together, will you do something for me?"

"If I can, yes," Catherine wondered what this resourceful Antipodean could want from her.

"Help me lose the accent," Phryne looked at her, "I know I'm getting better, but it slips, when I'm angry or upset."

"Deal," Catherine laughed, "now, Enid has some chocolate cake she sneaked from the kitchen, come on, to the folly."

"It's out of bounds, during the week," Phryne reminded her.

"Since when did that bother you, oh mighty linguist," Catherine pulled her along, "there are lots of things that are out of bounds, all that matters is that we aren't caught."

Phryne giggled, feeling much more relaxed than she had of late, or indeed since she started at this prison camp. She followed Catherine to the folly, keeping low behind a hedge and dodging into the trees in the beautiful grounds she had not had time to explore, yet.

Enid and the others were sitting on some blankets on the floor a delicious looking chocolate cake in front of them. She looked up with surprise when Catherine rushed in with the newest member of the group.

"Girls, listen, you know Phryne, new girl, well guess what she did ..." her eyes glistened with tears of laughter as she related what had happened and by the end of the story all had declared Phryne Fisher a thoroughly good egg and an absolute asset to their little gang.

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With her position in the school assured, she and her friends were the ones who looked out for the newer, shyer girls, the ones who were likely to get bullied by Lettice and her cohort, kept them under their wing and showed them how to avoid being tormented.

Phryne added zest to the group. While they could smuggle cakes and biscuits out to the folly, she would sneak cigarettes and alcohol into the school in her trunk each term. She taught herself to smoke at home, downstairs with boots, tried all her parents wine, whisky and brandy to find out which she preferred and how much could reasonably be taken without it being noticed and taught her friends the same.

It made her schooldays more bearable as she and the little group played pranks on others and found ways to sneak down to the local village after the days lessons or after lights out.

Years later, she would occasionally sit with a whisky at night and remember these times with fondness, and raise a toast to 'The Anglers', the group name they gave themselves. Perhaps the things they got up to had been what made her so resourceful as a Lady Detective.

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A little glimpse into the possible schooldays of our dear Phryne, I imagine it wouldn't be easy for a young Australian girl from the wrong end of Melbourne to fit into an English girls school in the early part of the 20th century.


	2. Chapter 2: Bodgy

From where she sat, high up in the tree, she could see a group of the village boys carrying planks of wood and tools and heading in her direction. She flattened herself against the moss enrobed branch, being discovered out of the school grounds _and_ up a tree would, likely as not, see her in detention for a month! Probably solving algebraic formulae - urgh!

She watched, intrigued at what they were doing. It appeared to be a construction of some sort, tucked in between the roots of the tree. The boys were completely oblivious to her presence, stripping to the waist in the warmth of the late summer afternoon. They may have only been around her age, perhaps a couple of years older, but growing up working on the farms had given them strong, broad shoulders and firm stomachs - she was becoming rather enamoured of the male form.

"That should do it," one of the lads stood with his hands on his hips, admiring their handy work, "now all we have to do is make sure we are around when pa takes the pups to the river."

"Why doesn't he sell them," another leant on a spare plank, "they're good working stock."

"Tried, but the last two aren't wanted," his friend sighed, "so one's going here and the other won't last long, one of the legs is crooked."

Phryne listened and thought. From what she could make out, two puppies were going to be drowned because no one wanted them, she didn't think it was fair. Impetuous as ever she sat up and called down to them.

"Hey, you!" she swung down onto a lower branch, "what'cha going to do with the crook one?"

"It's one of them from the posh school," the first youth hissed to his friend. "What's it to you?" he looked at her, swinging her legs as she sat there. She was pretty, he thought, and didn't speak like a lot of those from the school.

"Nothin', I suppose, jus' curious," she slipped off the branch and landed securely on her feet in front of the boys. "Doesn't seem right, just 'cos he's not right that he should be killed."

"We know," he stared at her, she stared back, "so we can keep one here, feed it and give it water, but the other one ..."

"How long do you think you could hide it here for?" she tipped her head, "the crook one."

"Why?"

"I'm going home, in two weeks," she folded her arms, "I could take him, he'd be a pet, not a working dog." Why she thought she could get her parents to agree to having a pet dog with an odd leg, she didn't know, but she didn't like the idea of it being drowned just because it wasn't right.

"What's in it for us?" one of the other boys stepped in.

"I won't tell, about you stealing the stuff to make the kennel," she tried to think what she could bargain with, "and if you're not about I could see that the one you want to keep here is ok."

"What's your name?"

"Phryne," she smiled, "I don't fit in here much more than your dodgy dog does."

"Where d'ye come from, you talk funny?"

"Australia," she looked into the distance, "my father inherited a title, after the war, all the others died."

The boys huddled into a group and whispered, looking back at her then they turned. The apparent leader of the group held out his hand, "deal," he nodded, "can you be here tomorrow?"

"Yes, after lunch," she agreed, "we get free time on Saturday afternoon."

They agreed to meeting and bringing the dogs. The leader, whose name it turned out was Jacob, said he would bring something to tie both dogs up with and their food.

"I'll find some bowls," she rashly offered.

"Where?"

"Best you don't know," she winked and sauntered off, this was a secret not even The Anglers would share.

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The Honourable Phryne Fisher was well known in the school kitchens, sneaking down for a chat and a biscuit, she felt more comfortable with these people. She supposed she would eventually get used to being nobility, but it was all very new to her and she still missed the grubby streets of Collingwood, where echoes of Janey were all around her. She felt, on the weekends she was at home, that her parents seemed to pretend that Janey had never been born, but for her Janey's disappearance and death had taken a piece of her heart that would forever be in the bathtub pirate ship in the yard.

She told the assistant cook she was going for a walk and asked if there was any chance she could have some biscuits to take with her, maybe a sandwich ...

"Honestly, Miss Phryne," she huffed, "you'll be the death of me. Here ..." she offered a sandwich of cold ham and mustard and some biscuits, and wrapped them in some brown paper. "Now ..." she nodded her head towards the back door, "... hop it, I've got work to do," she grinned as Phryne thanked her and skipped out of the way.

As she passed the scullery she could see piles of plates and dishes. Nipping in she picked up two that were slightly chipped and wouldn't make their way to the dining room again. They'd do nicely for the dogs.

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Only Jacob had come to meet her still unsure as to whether or not a toff could be trusted. She saw him, sitting on a large portion of tree root, a small black and white puppy at his feet and something cradled in his arms.

"Wasn't sure if you'd come," he smiled, now a little shy at meeting a private schoolgirl in a forest, on his own.

"Said I would," she huffed. It hadn't occurred to her that he wouldn't trust her. "Got a couple of dishes ..." she showed him the spoils of her foray into the scullery.

"You nicked 'em!" his eyebrows rose into his hairline.

"Chipped, they won't use them in the dining room," she laughed, "they won't be missed."

"If you say so," his mother would have used them, until they actually broke in pieces.

"This the good dog?" she asked, looking at the animal by his feet.

"Yeah, I've called him Toby," the smile returned to his face, "I told dad I'd take 'em to the river," he suddenly looked sad and sniffed a tear away. She touched his shoulder.

"The other?" she asked, looking at the bundle in his arms.

"This is him," he unwrapped the pup and passed it to Phryne. She'd never held a dog before, the ones she remembered were a bit on the mangy side and not really ideal for loving. She looked at him, black and white, like his brother, and eyes so deep brown they were like melted pools of chocolate, sitting in hollows of the black fur. He looked at her and she was sunk, the idea of drowning him almost broke her heart. She looked at the leg that was the reason he wasn't wanted. It appeared set in a strange position, and shorter than the others. She placed him gently on the floor and watched him stand firm on the three good legs. He stood watching her, waiting for something to happen. She reached into her pocket and broke off a small piece of biscuit. Holding it in front of him she told him to "sit" and gently pressed his backside down. He bumped down and she gave him the treat.

"Good pup," she smiled, stroking his head, "Bodgy, that's what I'll call you, Bodgy."

"Bodgy?" Jacob scoffed, "what kind of a name is that?"

"It means not good enough," she smiled, "and that's why he's not wanted, isn't it? He's not good enough." She pouted.

"S'pose," he shrugged. "How will you get him home?"

"I'm being picked up," she offered him half her sandwich, "I'll get the driver to pull up down the road and come and get him."

"Will he, you know, just 'cos you say?"

"I'll find a way, if he won't," she shrugged.

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Phryne managed to sneak down to the dogs each day, sometimes in the evening when everybody else was either reading or studying or just relaxing with some music. She started hiding some of her dinner, in a napkin, and taking it with her to treat Bodgy and Toby. Sometimes she saw Jacob, but not often, and there were times she missed his company. He treated her the way she wanted to be treated, as a human being, not some strange being from another planet. The young men her parents introduced her to were inclined to talk down to her, treat her like some china doll that would break in a strong breeze. She much preferred spending her time below stairs with Boots or with the kitchen staff, drinking cups of tea and eating biscuits fresh out of the oven. It was spending so much time with the staff that gave her the leverage she needed with the chauffeur. She had seen him with one of the maids, and she had read enough romantic novels to know he shouldn't be kissing her so fervently or slipping his hands up her skirts. She'd not said anything, it was information she could use when she needed it.

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Travers, the chauffeur, reluctantly pulled up at the side of the road. Miss Phryne had politely asked after his health as he loaded her small valise into the car, then asked if he wouldn't mind stopping just down the road as she had to retrieve something.

"I have instructions to take you straight home, Miss," he grumbled.

"Of course you have," she smiled sweetly, "how is Aggie?"

Aggie was the maid he had been tangled with in the back scullery.

"Don't be too long, Miss," he had gone pale. Phryne was learning that sweet smiles and pleasantries got her a lot further than an all out tantrum and was keen to develop this talent. If she had to practice on Travers, then, so be it. Jacob wasn't immune to her charms, but he was more likely to agree without arguing and he loved to listen to her stories of Melbourne, her life before her father's good fortune.

"One day," he'd sighed, "I'm going to go to Australia, you just wait and see."

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In the two weeks since Bodgy had been rescued from his fate he had grown and was utterly devoted to his mistress. She had taught him to sit on command, lie down and even fetch if she threw a stick. She petted and fussed him as she undid the rope that held him secure by the kennel, gave Toby a treat and, taking the rope in her hand, took Bodgy on the next step to a better life.

Travers was horrified, Phryne glared and stood her ground. If he wouldn't let Bodgy in the car she wasn't getting in, either. He couldn't force her, she would use what she knew about him and Aggie, and anyway, laying hands on the daughter of the house was a definite no no. His shoulders slumped as he opened the car door and she lifted the dog in.

"Thank you, Travers," she sat back in her seat, "you may continue."

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Bodgy didn't really enjoy the journey, even when she allowed him on the seat with her and opened the window. She was grateful, however, that he wasn't sick or anything else, he whined a little and trembled, and, on one occasion when they were stopped at a junction, tried to jump out of the window. But, all in all, Phryne sighed, it hadn't been too bad a trip.

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Travers opened the door for her, and she helped Bodgy down. He shook himself and huffed, waiting to see what would happen next. Phryne hoped it would be her mother that greeted her, her father would probably get a gun and shoot her new best friend. On the journey she had formulated what she would tell her parents; that she would care for Bodgy, feed and water him, and while she was at school she was going to ask Boots if he would see to him. As Boots was just a little bit in love with Miss Phryne she reckoned he could be relied on to step up. She'd find a suitable reward.

"Phryne!" her mother stopped in her tracks, "what on earth ..?"

"His name's Bodgy," she stood and tilted her chin upwards in defiance. "They were going to drown him, just because he's got a dodgy leg. That's not fair."

"I'm sure it isn't, dear, but did you have to bring him here?"

"Nobody else wanted him," she gripped the rope. "I'll look after him," she continued, "feed him and such like. Please, mother, he's no trouble."

"And when you're at school..?"

"I was going to ask Boots ..."

"Is he house trained?" Lady Fisher didn't fancy the idea of treading in something unmentionable in the drawing room.

"Er, well ..." Phryne looked down, "you see, he's been living outside up to now," she lifted her head, how hard could it be? "I'll see to it, just give me a chance, mother, please."

"You have the weekend," she bent and kissed her daughter and had to admit to herself, it was an entirely unselfish act, to care for something that was unwanted. "Get him bathed!"

"Thank you, mother," Phryne grinned, "come on, Bodgy, bath time," she tugged his rope, "let's go and find Boots."

Lady Fisher watched them head down to the kitchen and shook her head, a little smile on her face. The dog trotted happily at her daughter's heel stopping to sniff occasionally at a table leg or a door frame.

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Boots made a huge fuss of the dog, found an old tin bath and filled it half full with warm water. Phryne grabbed a bar of soap and the kitchen maid wrapped her in an old apron.

"Miss Phryne," she laughed at her, "you'll get soaked, now, here ..." the apron was one worn for cleaning, "... there, that should help."

Bodgy, like most dogs, was not enamoured of the bath and wriggled and barked as he was scrubbed and rubbed. Phryne laughed along with Boots and shrieked when the dog was lifted out and shook the water all over both of them. She took the apron off and used it to dry him as best she could.

"I'll go to the stables, Miss," Boots stood up, "get a brush for him. Got to look his best to meet his Lordship."

"Thank you, Boots," she held the dog fast, "I suppose I'd better get a collar and proper lead for him."

"Might be a good idea," he called back.

After a good brushing Bodgy looked clean, his fur shone and Boots had found a collar in the stables that had belonged to a dog that had been gone sometime. Miss Phryne didn't need to know how. They polished the collar and put it round his neck and declared him the best looking dog in the world.

Bodgy seemed to know he was to behave and held his head just a little higher. Phryne took him out for a walk round the gardens to 'do his business', Boots called it.

"Take him over to the stables, Miss," he suggested, "they're used to dealing with that kind of thing."

"Thanks, Boots," she grinned, "come on Bodgy, time to have a look round."

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Henry, Lord Fisher was not impressed with Phryne's companion. He blustered about how they didn't need a dog and it was irresponsible of her to take one without thinking.

"He was going to be drowned, father," Phryne snapped back, "just because he has a funny leg, that's not right!"

"That's for them to decide, not you!" he shouted back, "I am not having that thing in the house!"

Phryne pushed her chair back from the dining table, "I'm keeping him!"

"Sit down!"

"I'll eat in the kitchen," she clicked her fingers and Bodgy stood up, "come on," she sniffed, "we're not wanted here."

"Phryne, sit down, please," her mother caught her hand as she passed, "eat your dinner, Bodgy can stay, as long as you make sure he behaves."

"That animal ..!" Lord Fisher started to bluster.

"...stays, dear," his wife stated firmly, "now, let's enjoy Phryne's company, she's only here for the weekend and I am sure the dog will be out of your sight when she's back at school." She looked up at her daughter's tear-filled eyes, and smiled sympathetically. She was well aware that school was a challenge for her wild daughter and if this was the price they paid to keep her there, to make her a 'lady' then it was one she was willing to pay.

Phryne reluctantly resumed her seat and Bodgy sat back by her feet but she refused to speak to her father for the rest of the meal.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxThe rest of the weekend passed without incident, Phryne had Bodgy sleep in her room, on a folded up eiderdown at the foot of her bed. At first he wanted to get in with her, but, after a bit of persuasion, and some wakeful times during the night he got the message, that he had his bed, and his mistress had hers. He would sleep with Boots when she was away from the house and would be fed in the kitchen, and kept well away from the Baron.

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She hadn't liked leaving him but her mother assured her that he would be fine and they had raised Boots' pay a little to take account of his extra duties. Lady Fisher had told her husband that the dog would ensure Phryne learned about responsibility, about looking after those who needed her. Little did she know, at the time, what a life-long lesson it would be.

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Back in the village, Jacob was not having as good a time of it. His father had found out about the kennel in the woods and given him a beating for disobeying his orders. Jacob didn't see that it mattered - he was the one looking after Toby, feeding it and seeing he was safe and warm - but his father told him he either got rid of it or he would do it for him. Jacob needed a friend like he had never needed one before, but it wasn't the boys he knew that would hold the answer to his problem, and while he sat in his room, late at night he mused on the girl from the school. Rooting under his bed, he found the box with his money in. Not a lot, he admitted, but all he had saved when doing odd jobs around the village, selling his services as a carpenter when he was able to. It probably wouldn't be enough for what he wanted to do, but it would be a start. Phryne was the only person he would tell of his plan.

He hoped she would sneak in a visit to Toby as soon as she returned, he would sit and wait for her knowing it would be late evening if she did. He'd dozed off when Toby snuffled at his ear and woke him with a start.

"You're quiet," he whispered as she neared him.

"You were asleep," she grinned, "I didn't want to disturb you. Did you wait for me?"

"I needed to see you," he smiled sadly, then shook his head, "how did Bodgy go down?"

"Ok with my mother, but father was not pleased, not pleased at all," she sat down on a nearby log, "mother said he could stay if he behaved and agreed Boots could look after him while I'm in school," she told him about the weekend and how Bodgy had been as good as gold. How they had bathed him and how he slept at the foot of the bed.

"Lucky boy," he hummed, "I'm glad, Phryne, glad that he's got somewhere ..." how to tell her what his father had said.

"You've not had it good, have you?" she read his mind.

"No, pa says I've to get rid of Toby or he'll do it for me," he bit his lip, at sixteen he didn't think he should cry over a dog.

"No!" she gasped, "what are you going to do, I can't possibly get another one past my father." She took his hand, noticing in was calloused already and so much larger than hers.

"I'm leaving," he murmured, "going away. Me 'n Toby, we're heading to Australia."

"It's a hell of a long way, Jacob," she informed him, as if he didn't know," how will you get there?"

"Walk to the coast, see if I can work my passage, with Toby, of course," he lifted his shoulders. Now he had told someone he felt more sure, braver about the whole thing.

"Oh Jacob," she hiccupped, trying not to cry, "I am going to miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," he ducked his head so she couldn't see him blush, "can I write to you. I'm not much good, but I could tell you I'm ok, maybe where I am, it'd be nice to know someone knows, if you see what I mean."

"I'd like that, Jacob," she sniffed, "I really would."

"I know you won't be able to write back, not for a while anyway, but when I have somewhere to stay, would you? Write back I mean?"

"Of course," she smiled and squeezed his hand. "Jacob, you do know you need a passport, don't you?" It wasn't something a village boy would think about, in his haste to leave and save his dog.

"I'll sort it," it hadn't occurred to him, but somehow he would find a way. He was tall, for his age, maybe he could add a few years on to his age, two would be enough, eighteen should be old enough to get a passport without his parents' permission.

He stood up, "I need to get going, Phryne," he hefted his bag over his shoulder and took up Toby's rope.

"Please be careful, and do write, to the school," she held out her hand, "address it to Miss P Fisher, it looks a bit more formal that way," that, and she didn't have a piece of paper to spell her name onto.

"I will," he took her hand and shook it.

She watched him walk away, biting her lip against the threatened tears. He stopped, then turned ...

"Jacob?" she went to him, "what's wrong?"

"Phryne," he blushed, "can I kiss you, just this once."

"Oh, er, yes, I suppose so," she gasped, really quite astonished and not sure if she should be offended at his cheek.

He put down his bag and dropped Toby's rope before putting his arms gently round her and leaning down to kiss her lips, almost briefly.

"Oh, Jacob," she whispered, and flung her arms round his neck, kissing him firmly on the lips, then dropping her arms and gulping in surprise at her own audacity.

"Wow!" he breathed.

"Goodbye, Jacob, be lucky," she turned and walked quickly away so he couldn't see the tears coursing down her cheeks.

"Goodbye, Phryne, be lucky yourself," he whispered after her, then, picking up Toby's rope and his bag, he turned and walked away.

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It would be two years or more before she heard from the first boy she had kissed, but there it was, on the table in the hallway. Almost ready to leave and go to finishing school she had grown into a poised and quite lovely young lady, with a heart as big as the world and a thirst for adventure that would be quenched sooner than she expected.

"Dear Phryne," he'd looked up how to spell her name, he had to have done,

"Dear Phryne,

I bet you thought you'd never hear from me again. I hope you are well. As I said I'm not much good at writing letters but I wanted to tell you that the boy in the woods is now in Australia. Me and Toby made it, eventually. It wasn't easy, I worked in the engine room of a ship and they let me keep Toby in my bunk. I'm here in Queensland, on a cattle station, if you do get chance, I'd like to hear from you, about Bodgy.

Jacob."

She smiled and hugged the letter wishing the hug all the way to Jacob in Queensland. She would write to him that evening and tell him all about the dodgy dog, that still followed her everywhere when she was at home and even her father had mellowed towards him.

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Over the years she heard occasionally from Jacob, his letters always seemed to find her. So she knew of his marriage, of his working hard enough to buy his own sheep station in the State of Victoria and she was happy for him.


	3. Chapter 3, Easter holidays

"And what am I supposed to do for the entire month?" Phryne shouted down the phone, "you promised we would go shopping in London!"

"Sorry Phryne," her mother sighed on the other end of the line, "but Uncle Edward is not expected to last much longer, I need to be with your Aunt Prudence."

"I love Uncle Edward, too," she whined, "why can't I come?"

"You will miss the beginning of the next term, we don't know how long we will be away. I'm sure you won't be the only one staying at school for the holiday." With that Baroness Fisher signed off and went to see how the packing was doing.

Back in the school hall Phryne seethed. School was bad enough but having to spend the Easter holiday there was penance for some unknown transgression. She stomped back up to the dormitory to sulk.

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"Hullo, Phryne," Enid Fairbrother, one of her select band of friends was lying on her bed reading, "what's up?"

"Mother and father are going to Melbourne, Uncle Edward is seriously ill, I have to stay here for the holidays," she pouted and flung herself on the bed. "God what a thought."

"Come and stay with me," Enid grinned, "I can teach you to ride, ma and pa are always telling me to bring a friend. My brother's at Oxford but should be down too."

"Really?" Phryne sat up, instantly interested, "you sure they won't mind?"

"I'll ring 'em, then get them to ring your folks, back in a tick," Enid slid off her bed and ran out of the room. Phryne smiled, things were looking up, she thought.

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Baroness Fisher almost sighed with relief when Mrs Fairbrother rang to ask if Phryne could join them for Easter.

"I believe you are going away," she smiled, "it would be lovely to have her stay over the holiday. Enid speaks very highly of her and it will be company for her. Our son, Ralph, will be down from Oxford and I believe he is bringing a friend, too."

"Well, it's very kind of you," Margaret replied, "as long as it won't be too much trouble."

"Nonsense, we love having young ones about." So it was settled. Margaret arranged for a basket of Easter treats to be sent to Norfolk as a thank you gift and relaxed.

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Mrs Fairbrother had met the girls in London, due to Phryne not having a riding habit. Phryne immediately took to her. Her hair was dark and incredibly thick, piled on her head in an elaborate knot style, her eyes were deep brown and her skin almost swarthy. She also had an intriguing accent which Enid said was Argentinian.

"Pa met her when he was out looking at horses," Enid whispered, "said she was the most exotic thing he had ever seen and fell head over heels in love with her. If I can find a love like that, Phryne, I shall be the happiest woman alive."

"Now, my dear," Mrs Fairbrother smiled, "let us get you equipped to ride, eh?"

There followed a day in London. Phryne was found the right riding gear: breeches she had never worn, her mother insisted on dresses with the appropriate undergarments, a fitted jacket, blouse; that was more like a shirt; and boots. While feeling a little strange at first, Phryne felt the freedom such garments afforded. She sent the bill to her parents and clutched the package tightly, as if it would run off without her.

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It was late when they arrived at the Fairbrother residence. Phryne blinked sleepily and slipped as she stepped down from the cart. The groom caught her and laughed softly.

"Come, girls," Mrs Fairbrother whispered, "a light supper then bed."

Enid's father and brother were lounging in the parlour and briefly waved to the girls, Ralph noticing that his sister's friend was what his university friends described as 'a looker'. Phryne briefly noticed he was as dark as his sister was fair.

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Imagining the girls would talk into the small hours, Mrs Fairbrother had decided they should share a room, at the top of the house. Enid knew what times meals were served and would see that her friend was in the dining room on time.

And so the Easter holiday began. Phryne ended up with several bruises from falling off the horse, but she enjoyed it. Mrs Fairbrother had plenty of ways to get her to forget the stiffness in her limbs though she could have done without the attention of Enid's brother, who considered himself something of a lothario.

Ralph kept trying to get her to dance in the evening but she had finally run out of ideas as to how she could excuse herself. Bruises, stiff legs, aching back. He pulled her into a hold that left nothing to the imagination. As he waltzed her far too close for her liking or propriety, she felt something up against her belly. Now, Phryne, with her penchant for reading had read enough to know her friend's brother was ...to put it politely ... enamoured of her. Phryne had eight months before she reached fifteen, far too young to know about such things, never mind experience them. She pushed him away, hard enough for him to fall backwards into a large aspidistra set in a jardinière. She was horrified and ran out of the room and up the stairs to the room she shared with Enid.

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"Phryne!" Enid burst through the door, "what happened? Are you alright?!"

"Sorry, Enid," she inhaled and turned over on the bed to look at the ceiling.

"What did the idiot brother do?" Enid sat on the edge of the bed, "honestly, Phryne, he's had more girlfriends than soft mick, did he do something? He asked me where I found you, I never thought he'd make a move on you. I am so embarrassed."

Phryne turned and looked at Enid. The poor girl was red from neck to ear tips, thoroughly ashamed of whatever Ralph had done, even if she wasn't sure what that was.

"Enid, I'm sorry," she sat up, "Ralph has been making suggestions, since I arrived. I thought I could cope but tonight, I had run out of excuses to not dance with him. We have been taught to waltz, haven't we?"

Enid nodded her agreement.

"Well, that is not the correct hold, is it? Ralph, well ... er ... Ralph was ... erm ... aroused." Phryne blushed.

"What do you mean?"

Phryne rolled her eyes, "blimey, Enid, don't you read?"

It was Enid's turn to blush.

"Ok, well the horses, dogs, animals you have on the farm ..."

Enid nodded.

"Have you ever seen them, you know ... er ... ride each other, and the 'equipment?'"

"Of course, we aim to create a good bloodline in the animals, so ... oh!" she covered her mouth with her hand, "oh, hell, Phryne he was ..."

"Just like a stallion."

Enid couldn't have gone any redder, she was horrified, her brother had effectively propositioned her best friend, this couldn't be any worse.

"I'll speak to mother," she finally gasped, "she'll put a stop to it. I didn't invite you here to be a ... a ... oh hell."

"I know, Enid, I know" Phryne reached over and squeezed her hand, "no matter, not now, anyway. No damage."

At this tender age, having seen how her father had treated her mother, she had sworn herself off men, for now. Oh, she didn't plan on being a nun, she had no real belief, attended church because she had to. She had long ago decided she was grateful she was protestant, the catholic ethos was too strict for her, at least when she was old enough to make such choices she wouldn't be spending half her life in the confessional box. When she did go down that road, she would be the one in charge.

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The following morning, while Phryne slept, Enid sneaked down the stairs to see if her mother was about, as she was an early riser.

"Ma," she hissed, "Ma, can I talk to you?"

"Enid, my darling, of course," Mrs Fairbrother lifted her head from inhaling the aroma of strong coffee, "what troubles you my child?"

"Ralph," Enid had almost rehearsed her speech, "he's offended Phryne."

"How, why?" Mrs Fairbrother gasped.

"Er, he's ... well you know how he chases girls, and well ..."

"Enid, darling," her mother sighed, "has he made untoward advances ... Phryne is a beautiful looking girl ..."

"Er I suppose so, when he and she danced last night," Enid barrelled on, "she says he was aroused."

Mrs Fairbrother stood up, scowling. They had already had to foot the bill for one of his girlfriends care while she went through childbirth and adoption of the baby. Abortion was out of the question, a quiet nursing home was found and no questions were asked.

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Ralph sat up, blinking and gaping.

"Ma?"

She stepped over to the bed and hauled him upright, for a small woman she was very strong when determined.

"Keep your dirty thoughts to yourself, Ralph," she hissed, "leave Phryne alone. We have warned you before ..." she drew a tool from her pocket, "I have done this to animals, Ralph, carry on like this and I will do it to you."

He gulped, he had seen her casually castrate a beast on the farm and was in no doubt she would do the same to him.

She stormed out of the room and slammed the door, Ralph put his hands protectively over his manhood.

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Sometimes, Phryne thought she knew too much. Ralph stayed at arm's length but she was in no doubt of his intentions ... until ...

She was unsaddling her horse when a small child came into the stables. He didn't walk straight like she did, he walked like Cousin Arthur. a stilted gait, twisted body and a smile that took her back to the brightness of her aunt's home.

"Hello," she smiled "what's your name?"

"P ... P ... Pip," he spluttered.

"Hello Pip, I'm Phryne," she held out her hand, "so pleased to meet you."

Pip looked to her hand, then to her face, smiling and open and held out his hand to her.

He tried to pronounce her name, blowing out the 'F' sound.

"No worries," she grinned, "it's an odd name."

She spent a happy half hour with Pip, grooming the horse - he passed her the brush, took the tack off her and hung it up and pretty soon the two were laughing at something totally ridiculous that if asked later, Phryne would not remember. All she knew was that she had made another friend.

They had just come to the end when a loud voice interrupted them:

"Western!" Phryne recognised Ralph's call, "saddle up Reaper!"

Pip stiffened and cowered in the stall. Phryne put her fingers to her lips and nodded, she understood. She pointed at Pip and then at where the voice had come from. He nodded. She signalled 'ok'.

"Western!"

Silence.

"Where the bloody hell is that cripple!"

Pip pointed to where Reaper's stall was and she nodded.

"Go," she whispered, "saddle him up, I'm right behind you."

Pip's eyes widened.

She gave him the thumbs up and they each went their ways.

Phryne had no idea how to make a horse jump, startle, but she reckoned that a sharp slap to its rump might work, especially if she had her riding crop.

She watched Ralph clip Pip round the back of his head, and continually shout and whip him. She flinched at every flick of the whip and curse from Ralph. How did such a lovely girl like Enid have such an odious brother?

Pip held his hands so Master Ralph could mount his steed only to be kicked away as soon as possible. Phryne snuck up behind them and slapped Reaper with her crop, hard and sharp, causing the horse to rear and unseat the rider.

Ralph landed flat on his back, and gasped. Momentarily out of breath he looked round. Phryne stood there, crop in hand with a triumphant look on her face and her free arm round Pip's shoulders.

"You bitch!" he gasped.

She stepped forward and kicked him under the jaw revelling in the spurt of blood from his mouth.

"Cripple!" he turned to Pip, spitting blood, "get my father."

Phryne put her arm round Pip's shoulders, "I have a cousin like him, his name is Arthur and I would take him over you any day," she snarled.

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She stood in front of Mr Fairbrother, who she had barely seen during her visit, in his study, his hands steepled on the desk.

"So, Miss Fisher," he hummed, "you kicked my son."

"I did," she straightened her back, "he had made untoward advances to me the other evening, during a waltz and then was perfectly horrid to Pip, in the stables. He deserved it."

"Pip is ..."

"A human being, like you or me," she interrupted, "ok, he's not exactly like you or me, but he still has feelings. He helped me take the tack of my horse, and groom her before Ralph came into the stables."

"But ..."

"I have a cousin, like Pip, his name is Arthur, and I would take him over your son any day of the week, because he is sweet and lovely and kind," she held her head high, "never judge a book by its cover, Mr Fairbrother. Your son thinks he is god almighty and I have had enough of men like that." She didn't like the way that came out, she meant her father, but she would leave it as it was, it was up to Mr Fairbrother to make his judgement, her friendship with Enid would still stand.

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"Phryne," Enid flew into the bedroom, "what did you say to my father? Ralph has been told that if he doesn't stick to his studies he will be cut off without a shilling."

"Sorry, Enid," Phryne mumbled, "I told him what he had done to me, and how he treated Pip, awfully, in the stables. I have a cousin ..."

"Arthur?"

"Aha, him, I love him dearly as you know, well Pip ..."

"...reminds you of him." Enid sat on the edge of the bed, her shoulders slumped, "god, Phryne, " she sighed, " I thought it would be a break for you, coming here .."

"Oh, Enid," Phryne sighed, "it's lovely, really. I can ignore your brother, just like I do father," she laughed.

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The rest of the Easter break went as Enid had planned. Phryne became an adept rider and she and Enid spent many a happy hour riding and taking a picnic in the grounds, or further.

Ralph was nowhere to be seen.

Pip was always around to help at the end of the ride, he held Phryne in high regard, almost worshipped her, and she in turn taught her friend that not everyone is born the same, or equal, but it is how they are treated that makes them so.


	4. Chapter 4 Continuing the line

_**Set in the summer of 1914, war has been declared.**_

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Phryne blinked at the letter she held, her mouth open in shocked surprise. She had been at the school for nearly a whole year and was looking forward to the summer break. She had tried to settle in and though she had made friends and even been to a friend's home for Easter she still preferred the estate. There she wasn't observed every hour of the day, she could disappear for the whole day and reappear at dinner time and, as long as she was correctly attired nobody seemed to be too bothered what she got up to. Her parents were adjusting to life as English aristocracy, albeit on the lower levels, her mother had blossomed with the healthier and more plentiful diet and her father lorded it over the staff. At least he had done until the Baroness had taken him aside and told him not to be so pompous.

"We don't want the staff to up and leave because you are rude and bombastic," she hissed, "they have to get used to us just as we have to get used to having more than we could ever have imagined two years ago."

Now life was even better, at least Margaret and Henry thought so. The better food and fresh air had done Margaret so much good she had conceived a child. Henry was beside himself with joy, firmly believing that this time it would be a boy and the line would carry on. And this is why Phryne was sitting on her bed, speechless.

"Phryne?" Catherine touched her arm, "what's wrong?"

"It's mother," she finally gasped after Enid handed her a glass of water, "she's, well," she gulped, "mother's going to have another baby."

"Crikey!" Lavinia burst out, "how the heck did that happen?"

Everybody turned and looked at her wide eyed, they all knew 'how'.

"Sorry, but well, Phryne you are thirteen, goin' on fourteen and, well it's a big gap." She mumbled.

"It's been eleven years," Phryne's eyes filled with tears, "I had a younger sister, she was abducted ..."

"Sorry, old thing," Catherine touched her arm, "we didn't know."

"No, well," Phryne sniffed and lifted her chin defiantly, "I don't like to talk about it."

"Do you mind?" Enid asked, "I mean not being the only one, anymore?"

"No, anyway it will keep father occupied and he'll ignore me, especially if it's a boy. I shan't see much of it, bein' here." She straightened her back and huffed.

"So ..." Lavinia mused, "when? D'ye know when it will be born?"

"Er ..." Phryne returned to reading the letter, "October, so she's well on the way."

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No more was said about the Baroness' condition but it was a couple of days before Phryne was able to write back. She began by thanking her parents for the letter and congratulated them on the news. She hoped her mother was well and looked forward to seeing them at the beginning of the summer break. It was a short letter, but then, most of hers were. She found it difficult to fill a page with school life, most of the interesting things were things she shouldn't have been doing - meeting with her little group of friends in the folly, sneaking out into the village on a Friday evening or sitting up in the library teaching each other bad language in any language. Anything she was caught doing was instantly reported to her parents and she would usually have to write her reasons or excuses in the next letter, this was one of those rare letters that didn't have complaints about her behaviour to apologise for.

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"Phryne got much to say?" Henry asked over the breakfast table.

"Not much, hopes I'm well, looking forward to the summer holidays," she waved the short letter, "then she never does have much to say, does she?"

"S'ppose she's behaving herself this week, then," he muttered.

"Or not been caught," she mused.

"Hope she doesn't bring home another lame dog," he huffed, throwing a piece of breakfast sausage down for Bodgy, who sat under the table, hoping for a little treat.

"I do wish you wouldn't feed him from the table, Henry," she grumbled, "he's getting too used to it."

From demanding Phryne get rid of the dog with the deformed leg Henry and Bodgy had become almost inseparable, which amused Margaret though she tried very hard not to let him know. Bodgy was an almost reasonable gun dog when Henry took friends out to shoot game, soon learning how to carry a shot bird without damaging it. Most people thought it was strange that a breed normally used to round up sheep could be trained to the gun. Henry would just shrug his shoulders and carry on, patting Bodgy's head and rewarding him with a little something he had secreted in his pocket before heading out that morning.

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Phryne thought on Enid's question, about no longer being an only child. She thought it would be easier if it was a boy, another girl would only remind them of Janey and though her sister was never far from her thoughts the idea of replacing her was unimaginable. Yes, a boy would be altogether preferable, not that she would have much to do with him, she would be at school for his first couple of years and then who knew? A Swiss finishing school had been suggested, she would like to tour Europe then find something useful or interesting to do, but there was a war now and such things seemed unlikely for the foreseeable future, though they said it would be all over by Christmas. She knew her parents would expect her to marry the right kind of man, produce grandchildren for them and ... well nothing in particular. She shuddered at the thought.

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Her mother greeted her at the door when she arrived to start the summer holidays. Most of her friends were going away for the six weeks so she had no one to see though Enid had said they would be staying at home as her father was involved in the horse racing.

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"If you want to you can always come over, we'll ignore Ralph," she had said, "and I know Pip would love to see you."

"Thanks for the offer, Enid," she'd grinned in reply, "if mother needs quiet or father has had enough of me I'll ask if I can."

"We'll leave it at that then, mother said you're welcome whenever, and father said so too."

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"Phryne, darling," Margaret embraced her daughter as tight as she could, "oh it is so lovely to have you home."

"Hello, mother," Phryne kissed her cheek, "you look well."

"I am, wonderfully well, the doctor says I am strong and healthy and growing well," she stroked her slowly expanding belly, barely visible under her dress, "we still can't quite believe it."

"Must admit it was a bit of a surprise," Phryne smiled, "I hope everything goes well."

"You don't mind do you?" Margaret frowned slightly.

"Why should I mind, mother? Surely it's a good thing and it shows how the life here suits you."

"Your father is hoping for a boy," she pouted.

"I think it would be nice," Phryne was running out of things to say that were positive, "another girl might remind us all of Janey and though we will never forget her a boy would be good."

"Of course dear, you are right, as usual."

They walked into the house, arms around each other, her mother telling her Henry and Bodgy were somewhere on the estate.

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Phryne spent her days in 'country pursuits'. She was too young to be taken to London for the season and her mother wanted to stay in the clean air and less stressful atmosphere of the estate. So Phryne went shooting with her father, rode out with one of the grooms for company and took Bodgy for walks when she could separate him from Henry.

She was helping her mother decide which room should be the nursery one wet Wednesday when Margaret voiced her thoughts on how she should bring up the next child.

"I suppose I should have a nanny, this time," she gazed out of a window over the estate gardens, "one does, doesn't one?"

"Isn't that up to you, mother?" Phryne stood beside her, "you raised us on your own."

"I wasn't a Baroness then."

"You could promote one of the maids to a nursery nurse," she suggested, "you know, looking after him when you are busy or entertaining. Perhaps have some help when you are lying in."

"Mmm ..." her mother mused, "perhaps."

"I think," Phryne moved the subject back to the room, "this would be a good nursery. It's light and airy, close to your room ... needs decorating, though."

"Yes, you're right ... the original nursery is higher up and miles from our suite, I don't want that, even if it is ... unusual."

"Your baby, mother, your rules."

"One day you will have these things to think about, Phryne," Margaret hummed.

"A long time off, mother," Phryne tried to hide the shudder, "I'm not fourteen yet."

"Quite."

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Towards the end of the holidays discussions were held about taking Phryne to London to buy her clothes for the winter at school. Margaret had been advised to stay away from the city and rest and Henry would be no use with that kind of shopping. Phryne had an idea. She hadn't had the chance to go and stay with Enid but knew they would also be looking to kit out her friend with winter clothes, a new coat, shoes ...

She put a call through to the Fairbrothers.

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"Remember, Phryne," Margaret adjusted the collar on her daughter's coat, "I will know what you buy so be sensible. You may have the odd little treat but ..."

"Alright, mother," Phryne grinned, "I'll pay cash for the racy undergarments." She winked.

"Oh Phryne, don't be naughty," she kissed her forehead, happy to forgive such little teases. The next time she saw her the baby would be born, spoiling her daughter was in order, she felt.

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Phryne met up with Enid and her mother and they settled into their hotel before having tea. Mrs Fairbrother sat back and let the girls chatter away, a change to the general mood of the country. She did not share her worries about Ralph who was considering joining up to fight in France. To him it was a lark, she had different thoughts. Perhaps it would be all over by the time the girls finished school at the age of sixteen. She took them to a revue at the theatre, light-hearted and morale boosting with Vesta Tilley, the male impersonator, appearing as a British soldier. There was a collection at the end to help with the war effort, Phryne put in as much as she dare and Enid and her mother also donated.

The following day was spent shopping for school clothes, they both needed new winter coats and hats and Mrs Fairbrother helped Phryne choose a suitable pair of winter boots for walks into the village and around the grounds. Their fun and freedom was over all too soon, they had to go back to school. Mrs Fairbrother put them on the train, hugged them both and told them not to get into too much trouble.

"You are welcome to come and stay anytime, Phryne dear," she smiled, "though I expect you will want to get to know your little brother or sister when it comes along."

"Thank you for everything, Mrs Fairbrother," Phryne smiled back, "for the theatre, for helping me get the right clothing, I really do appreciate it."

"Anytime my dear, anytime."

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Phryne opened the envelope, it was addressed in her father's distinctive script, so she was certain it held news.

"Dear Phryne,

Well, the next generation has arrived, a boy. Your mother is well, she came through it wonderfully, according to her doctor and is nursing him herself. We have promoted Milly to nursery maid, I believe it was your idea, and she is a great help. Your brother has a fine set of lungs and is a good size. The doctor says he is healthy and strong. We are going to name him George Henry Edward, but he is already known as Georgie.

Hoping you are well and behaving, we look forward to you coming to meet Georgie as soon as you can. Mother sends her love.

Love from

Father."

She lay back on the bed and read it several times over. She had a brother, her mother was well and her father seemed happy. She hoped Georgie would not feel the palm of his hand or be locked in a cupboard to break his spirit. He was a Fisher, he was bound to have 'spirit'.

"Hey Phryne," Enid and Catherine burst into the room, "what news from the home front?"

"A boy," she waved the letter, "Georgie. Mother's well."

"Congratulations," Enid bounced onto the bed, "so, I suppose you have to go and meet him?"

"When I can, father says," she sat up, "but I will go on the next holiday."

"How're you feeling?" Catherine sat down more gently, "really?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure," she tipped her head and looked at the ceiling for inspiration, "I hope father is kind to him, doesn't hit him, but I also hope he isn't spoiled. I suppose with the age difference I won't have much to do with him. I can't exactly take him out riding or walking with Bodgy, can I? What does one do with a baby?"

"When my aunt had a baby it was passed round like a parcel for everyone to hold, it was sick over my brother," Enid giggled, "we took her a soft toy, a teddy bear I think, as a gift."

"Oh, I suppose I'd better go to the village, then," Phryne sighed, completely at a loss.

"We'll come with you, old thing," Catherine hugged her, "Saturday?"

"What?" She blinked, "oh ... yes. Yes, let's."

"We could go to the cafe, a celebratory cup of tea and cakes?" Enid suggested.

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Phryne sent her congratulations to her parents in a card she bought in the village that Saturday. The three girls had headed out to buy a gift for Georgie and had found a suitable card to the new parents. There was only one shop that sold toys so the choice was limited. They took their time looking at the teddy bears before choosing one that Enid, who had the most experience with babies, said was probably as big as he was. It's fur was soft and almost honey coloured and it wore a blue ribbon round it's neck. Phryne said she would take it when she went home.

"Now, tea," she tucked the toy under her arm, "I am in need of the biggest cream cake the cafe supplies."

They spent a happy couple of hours eating cake and drinking tea and talking about anything but babies. Catherine sensed Phryne didn't want to talk about babies, she seemed shy, almost nervous of the subject. She knew the headmistress had taken her friend aside after there had been reports the normally attentive student had been seen to allow her attention to wander.

"My mother has just had a baby, Ma'am," Phryne told her, "I suppose it has distracted me."

"All is well?"

"So father says, in his letter," Phryne agreed, "it's a boy," she added, as if that made a difference to her feelings - it didn't as far as she could tell.

"Ah, so a son to carry on the line," the headmistress mused, "these things are important to men of society, my dear. Do you want to go home for a weekend?"

"It's nearly the break, Ma'am, I shall go then. My friends and I have plans to get a gift for Georgie, that's his name, my brother, and have a celebratory tea, on Saturday," she stared into the almost black eyes.

"Ah, a trip to the village, excellent idea," Miss Blacklock smiled at her. "Try not to be too distracted, Phryne, you are a clever girl I would hate to see your work slip. If you hear anything from your father that worries you come and tell me."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

Phryne had left the office thinking maybe Miss Blacklock had a heart, after all, it was the first time it had made its appearance, but then she was usually summoned to see her for some misdemeanour.

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All too soon Phryne was packing her small trunk to go home for the half term. Her mother had written and sent an invitation to Enid to join her. She was most surprised as was Enid and in turn Mr and Mrs Fairbrother.

"We thought, with a new baby in the house," Enid folded a blouse, "that it would be too much for your mother, but it was her idea."

"I'm really glad you're coming," Phryne picked up the teddy bear and tucked him in a corner of the trunk, "but I'm as surprised as you are. Mother said in her letter that she was worried she would be so tied up with Georgie that she wouldn't have much time for me and thought a friend might be a good idea, that and she's been wanting to meet you."

"Well as I taught you to ride do you think you could teach me to shoot?" Enid dropped the lid of her trunk with a loud thud and sat on it, "we don't at home as it frightens the horses."

"Well, father taught me so I could ask him to teach you, he never lets me out on my own with a shotgun anyway," Phryne fastened her trunk and sat facing Enid. "It's the game season, apparently, so we can go on a shoot, you can meet Bodgy too."

"Great," Enid grinned.

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One of the grooms had been sent to meet Miss Phryne and her friend from the station. He had come with a pony and trap so there was just enough room for the two girls and their trunks.

"How are things, Hobbs?" Phryne asked as they plodded up the drive to the house.

"Pretty well, Miss," the groom nodded, "we don't see much of the Baroness right now, with the baby an' all. Your father has organised a couple of shoot while you are here, if you would like to join him."

"We would, Miss Enid wants to learn to shoot ..."

"I'm sure his Lordship will be happy to oblige, Miss, or one of the gamekeepers," Hobbs pulled the trap up at the front door, where Henry was waiting to greet his daughter and her friend.

"Phryne, darling," he opened his arms to hug her, "and Enid? Yes? Welcome dear girl, welcome."

He was bursting with bonhomie, brimming with pride, Phryne wanted to bottle it, it was so different to the Henry she knew.

"Hello, father," she returned the hug and grinned, "yes, this is Enid. How is mother, may I see her?"

"She is very well, honestly Phryne, she's magnificent!" He pulled both girls inside and instructed Hobbs to bring the trunks in, "you can see her as soon as you have washed and changed, that's the message she gave me."

"I suppose we are a bit grubby from the journey," Phryne mused, "come on Enid, I hope you have put her next to me, father."

"Your mother's department, m'dear," he shrugged, "but I do believe so."

Two servants preceded the girls up the stairs with their luggage and left them to see to themselves, Miss Phryne was very independent.

"Right, Enid," Phryne pulled her into a bedroom, "this is yours. There's a bathroom through there," she pointed to a door, "I'm that way, next door," she pointed in the opposite direction, "let's get washed and changed and I'll take you to meet mother."

"Don't you want to see her on your own, first?" Enid's eyes opened wide.

"Er ... no, s'ok, we'll both go." Phryne shrugged, truth was she wasn't sure what she was going to say to her mother and thought having Enid there would ease any tension.

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Half an hour later Phryne knocked on her friend's door. She had changed into a lightweight cotton blouse, soft green skirt and matching cardigan. Her hair hung loose below her shoulder blades, almost to her waist, all black wild waves and curls.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Come here, long hair and babies don't go together. He'll either grab it and pull or chew it or even throw up over it, turn round," Enid pulled her friend in and sat her at the dressing table. "Right ..." She took a brush and gently brushed the thick mane, lifted the top half up and tied it with a white ribbon. "There."

"Thanks," Phryne smiled. It was neat, with the top and sides taken off her face and the rest allowed to flow down her back.

"Where's the teddy?" Enid asked, "don't tell me you left him?"

"Oops, he's still in the trunk," Phryne giggled, "wait a tick, I'll get him," she turned and ran into her room and grabbed the soft toy.

She returned quickly and they headed to the nursery.

"We chose this room together," she told her friend, "during the summer holidays. The original nursery is so far away from mother and father that you would need a tram ticket to get there. She wanted him to be closer, he's her baby after all."

Enid agreed it sounded much nicer. Her mother hadn't had much truck with nannies and nursery nurses, seeing it as a needless expense. One or other of the maids had stood in when there was a dinner party or luncheon or some such event she was needed to host.

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Standing at the nursery door Phryne took a deep breath and knocked.

"Come in," her mother's bright voice called and before Phryne could put her hand on the handle the door was opened and her mother stood there, her hair tied loosely back and wearing a pretty pink dress that buttoned down the front with a white shawl over her shoulders. She pulled Phryne into a tight hug that took her breath away.

"Darling! You're here! How wonderful to see you," she stood back, "you look lovely, I like your hair like that," she stroked her cheek.

"Mother, you look very well," an understatement, Margaret looked amazing, "this is Enid." She stood back and introduced her friend.

"Enid, how lovely to meet you, I'm so glad you could come," Margaret embraced the other girl more gently, "come, both of you, come and meet Georgie, he's perfectly placid when he's just been fed." She practically skipped back into the room.

Georgie was lying asleep in a cradle. He was swaddled against the cool of the autumn days, his eyelashes half moons on his cheeks and his mouth slightly open.

"Oh, he's tiny," Phryne gasped.

"Of course he is," Her mother smiled, "he's only three weeks old, he'll grow."

"He's lovely," Enid smiled, "long eyelashes, just like you Phryne."

"He reminds me a lot of her, as a baby," Margaret agreed, "though he is a little less demanding."

"Mother!" Phryne huffed.

"Sorry, darling, you were my first and I suppose I found it all little overwhelming, I was barely twenty," Margaret hugged her.

"I bought this for him," Phryne held up the teddy, "you're right, Enid, it's bigger than he is."

"He's lovely, Phryne," her mother held him up, "Georgie will love him, his first toy. You are a sweetheart."

Phryne was pleased she had done the right thing, and that the gift was appreciated, at least by her mother, time would tell with Georgie's feelings.

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The rest of the week went well, really. Phryne and Enid went on shoots with her father and he taught Enid to shoot. She bagged a couple of pheasant and Bodgy went to fetch them for her.

"He's a lovely dog," she patted his head and rewarded him with a piece of cold chicken.

"You can see why I didn't think it right he should be done away with," Phryne scratched behind his ears, "just because he has a crook leg?"

"Of course," Enid agreed, "you have to give him chance to grow into himself."

"I'm just surprised that father has taken to him so well, he wanted nothing to do with him when I brought him home."

"Ah, well, man and dog, Phryne ..." her friend grinned.

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Phryne spent time with her mother, either in the parlour or in the nursery, which was a bright, inviting room now. Decorated in creams and pale blues, a thick fluffy carpet underfoot. There was a large cot in one corner, waiting for Georgie to outgrow his cradle, a baby bath and chest of drawers for his clothes. Phryne was in no doubt that the empty space would be filled with toys, perhaps a rocking horse? Phryne didn't think she was jealous, if her father had come into the title when she was a baby she was sure her mother would have seen that she was given more toys than she remembered. In fact she barely remembered any toys, as such, just a bathtub in the yard that she and Janey had turned into a pirate ship and sailed the oceans in, in their imaginations. She was, however, a little bit proud that she was the one who had given him his first toy - the teddy bear.

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For the first two years of Georgie's life Phryne saw him at holidays and weekends, occasionally, but she had been right when she thought she would play little part in his upbringing. By the time he had got used to her comings and goings she was in France, driving ambulances and comforting dying soldiers. Then she stayed in France and drifted into the artist's community where she met the man who would claim her and ultimately turn her into the woman a certain Detective Inspector of the Victorian constabulary would come to know - intimately.

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 _I have an idea for a story where Phryne's brother turns up and causes her some troubles, so I thought I would introduce Georgie Fisher in this story. Margaret may have been barely twenty when Phryne was born, given she lost her reason over the Twilight Waltz, something a teenager might do, so I feel she would be still able to bear children after she moved to England. A better diet, cleaner air may well have improved her health and therefore enabled her to conceive and carry another child._


End file.
